Villainous Comeback
by Lord Mendasuit
Summary: Harry Potter, the Wizarding World's Hero and Savior was sent far away to his last remaining family by blood, in order to ensure his protection. Unfortunately for the Wizarding World, Harry had no blood relation to the Dursleys or the Evanses...
1. Chapter 1

Albus Dumbledore was facing some problematic problems, to say the least.

He had a babe in his arms, one Harry Potter by name, one he had planned to drop off at his sole remaining relatives' house, until he was stopped by his deputy Headmistress, the woman on whom he confided to stop him from mishandling what little time he had in Hogwarts. He would stop to listen to her, if only to assuage her fears, as she talked about the problems with leaving Harry with the Dursleys.

She didn't understand, didn't have all the information, and there was little time to give it to her. He'd explain to her why he had to do what he had to do in a moment, just as soon as he'd left Harry to be safe in his aunt's home.

"They're the worst sort of muggles, Albus," she reminded him, repeating a phrase she'd said before, as if she feared that he hadn't been listening. He was, far be it from him to be deaf to her, but he couldn't heed her words, not now, not when he knew better than her what needed to be done to ensure Harry's safety. "They're not even truly related," she added, as an afterthought.

This stopped Dumbledore cold, even as he was walking towards the front door of the Dursley home, number 4 Privet Drive. He blinked, before turning around and regarding McGonagall with a curious look. "Pardon?"

At this, she smiled, thinking she had an in. "It's as you heard - Lily Evans was adopted into the Evans family. She shares not a drop of blood with them."

The bearded old man blinked in confusion. "Truly?" he asked, as if wishing to ensure himself.

"Truly," she confirmed, nodding at him, "she confided in me after a particularly nasty letter from her adoptive sister. It seems Petunia had told her in a fit of jealousy and envy over her inability to use magic," McGonagall continued.

"Oh dear," Dumbledore said, shaking his head, "this isn't good. I had planned on leaving Harry with his sole remaining relatives, for it is the only way in which we could ensure his protection, both from Death Eaters looking to avenge their master as well as the fame that will surely attempt to ruin his life," he said, sounding quite disappointed that he'd be forced to go with plan C, which was to leave Harry with a wizarding family where he could run the risk of growing with a big head, like a pampered prince, or forced to live under the pressure of living up to the legends that were no doubt already forming about him.

Neither was a good prospect for a child to grow up.

"Then the Dursleys would've been a bad choice either way. They'd hate him, at best, and he'd grow up without a childhood to speak of. If they did not, they would spoil him like that brat that I told you about before. Either way, they are no good as guardians for Harry," McGonagall said, with a tone of finality that told Albus that this was the last they'd ever speak of leaving Harry with the Weasleys.

He would not disagree. Some part of him was happy that he wouldn't have to curse Harry to living under the same roof as Petunia Dursley, even if now he had no way to ensure his safety to the extent the Blood Wards could. "Perhaps..." he muttered to himself. "Minerva, did Lily ever seek her biological family?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," McGonagall said, nodding. "She tracked down her father, at least, though she never could find her mother. Her father was a small time farmer living in a nameless little village in Wales, though he has since passed. She had a brother, but as far as we know, he has been missing for ten years now," she explained.

One would think it odd that she could so readily recall personal information from any given one of her students, but those would forget that Minerva McGonagall was not known for being forgetful. Couple that with the fact that Lily Evans had been the teachers' darling pet during her stay at Hogwarts, and you could easily see why her head of house could readily recall that sort of information.

"Hm... this isn't good," Dumbledore said. "Harry's mother's sacrifice... it would need him to live with a blood relative to cement its power. There is power in blood," he added, as an afterthought.

"Well... he does have two cousins, still," McGonagall said. "I don't think Lily learned much of her cousins, and before she went into hiding, her younger cousin had also seemingly disappeared off the map, or so she told me. The older cousin lives somewhere within Britain, but we haven't been able to ascertain her location."

"I hope that such a blood relation is enough to have the wards hold, for it will have to do. Do you have a name, Minerva? I must search for them at once," Dumbledore asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Lily's father last name was Springfield."

It had to have been the first time she had seen Albus Dumbledore's eyes attempt to burst out of his skull at her pronounciation. She blinked, clearly shocked at the image.

"Was it something I said?" she muttered to herself as Albus began to walk off with the babe in arms, clearly raising his hand to call for his phoenix companion, which would offer much safer travel than Apparation.

* * *

**Villainous Comeback**

**Chapter 1: Unknown Family Ties**

* * *

Dumbledore liked comfy chairs.

But he couldn't sit in one right now, as he didn't know whether it'd be seen as a breach of propriety and manners to conjure a chair for himself rather than use the one offered. It wasn't very comfortable. He realized, on some level, that it might be intentionally uncomfortable, as if to put him in a more precarious position, which he already knew he was in.

He was the one making the request, after all, and all the weight of the ICW's Supreme Mugwump meant absolutely nothing in front of the Kanto Magical Association's leader, one Konoemon Konoe, as he was not dealing with a wizard.

Indeed, Konoemon was a Mage, not a Wizard, and though some would contest the difference, any who knew would be able to explain it to you.

Dumbledore had no special power here. He was just an old man, asking for a favor from another old man, and while he longed for the days when he could relax, right now he found himself more tense than ever.

"You're asking for quite a bit," Konoemon explained, raising one of his exceptionally bushy eyebrows. Dumbledore found himself momentarily mesmerized by the odd, disturbing shape of the man's head. No doubt the end result of magical experiments gone horribly wrong.

"I know," Dumbledore said, "but I promised his parents I'd guarantee his safety, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to do so. I failed them grievously already, and I will do everything in my power to not do so completely," he explained. "As such, I am willing to negotiate a price you find convenient, for this favor."

The younger of the two old men chuckled. "A nonspecific favor," he said, shaking his head, before looking at Dumbledore for a few seconds. "You know this is a breach of the non interference agreements," Konoemon stated.

"I understand this," Dumbledore said, "but there are murky and grey legal loopholes I am very much willing to utilize to ensure that this doesn't grow out of hand. They are family, after all, before they are wizards or mages," he said.

"Truth, family is very important," Konoemon said, nodding. "Very well, then, so be it. Though it is not me you must convince. He has more than earned the right to make such decisions for himself, and I know full well that each and every one of his students will support him in whichever decision he makes."

"But you know which choice he'd make, do you not?" Albus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course. Genius though he might be, he is painfully predictable at times," Konoemon said, chuckling. "I have no doubts about what his answer will be."

* * *

"You agreed!?"

Dumbledore winced at the volume of the yell that had shook all of them, as a dozen, if not more, teenaged girls, all clearly asian in features, came spilling through the paper doors that separated the room he'd been having his 'private' meeting with the young Springfield in.

He'd known they were there, of course, and so had the boy he'd been speaking to. He hadn't expected them to react this violently, but it hadn't been a surprise in its entirety.

"Well, he is my family, Chisame-san," Negi said, turning around to the girl who seemed to be at the bottom of the pile.

The long bearded, long haired Headmaster of Hogwarts smiled a little as he saw the brown haired girl begin to berate the boy for his irresponsibility and lack of foresight. He could detect no ill will or even real anger in her tone as she spoke. No, she spoke out of worry for her... friend, he supposed, for her teacher. Maybe she felt some sort of responsibility as a big sister figure of some sort.

Even if she was berating him as a wife would berate an irresponsible husband.

As she stopped, a flood of other people began to talk, and Dumbledore felt it'd be a long afternoon. He silently thanked Crouch for having taken the time to teach Dumbledore the basics of many languages. Specifically, though, he thanked Crouch for teaching him how to say "I'm sorry, I don't speak Language, could we use English instead?" in Japanese.

That came in extremely handy at times.

* * *

Nearly an hour later, of the horde of teenaged girls and a young boy, only two and the boy remained, as they approached a small, lonely cottage in the woods.

"You... What?"

Negi squirmed under the gaze of the woman who'd taught him practically everything he knew about Dark Magic. The very Tidings of Darkness herself, the Master of Puppets, the High Daylight Walker... and a plethora of other titles that she'd forgotten. Evangeline McDowell was clearly unhappy about the fact that her apprentice had just adopted his own fifteen months old cousin. "Well... He had nowhere else to go, so I-"

"Accepted before he even had the situation explained to him," Chisame said with a sneer on her face, running a hand through her face before settling two fingers on the bridge of her nose after she'd moved her glasses so they didn't bother her while she did it. "You know this idiot, if anyone needs help, he'll jump headfirst into anything."

"Well, if I had family, I wouldn't want them to wind up in an orphanage or something," Asuna commented from Negi's other side, throwing an arm around his shoulder in a silent gesture of support, and also to steady him lest he crumble in the face of Evangeline's anger.

"And how does this matter to me? It's YOUR responsibility now," Evangeline said, frowning and glaring at the three idiots, as she saw them.

"The dorms aren't a good place to raise a child. There's very little space. So..." Asuna began, with a wily smile on her face.

"Oh, no. No way. You're not dumping the kid on me! You accepted this responsibility, dammit!" the blonde yelled, pointing a dainty finger in her apprentice's face.

"B-But Master, we can't raise Harry in the dorms..." Negi said, squirming a little under Evangeline's glare. "We're already a little cramped as it is, and it's not safe for children there..."

"Oh, and it's safe for Children with me, the most dangerous criminal ever!?" Evangeline asked, rhetorically.

Negi nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! You're really nice, Master, and so strong that nobody would bother you!" he said, smiling in such a way as if he didn't, in any way, shape or form doubt that what he was saying was true.

Evangeline blushed slightly. "Nice!?" she protested.

"I don't think he's a good judge of character," Chisame commented, flatly.

"You're right," Asuna added.

"HEY! Wait- why am I protesting!? I'm not nice! I'm evil!" Evangeline said, shaking her head. "And I said no! I'm not going to take care of your brat for you! Don't bring it into my home!"

"But Master... you're the only one who has a house big enough on campus..." Negi said, before looking down for a few seconds. He took a deep breath and remembered something. "If you let us use your home, I'll lick your feet like I promised back when you accepted to train me," he said, his face morphing into a determined one.

Asuna protested, raising her hand as if to lecture him, but Negi turned to her and shook his head.

Chisame snorted. "He's done worse things for power anyway," she said, reminiscing about things she'd rather forget.

"That's not enough, boya!" Evangeline said. "If I'm going to do this, you're going to have to agree to do everything I tell you! And I'm not going to raise this kid myself, at this home, so you're going to have to move here, too!"

Asuna and Chisame both looked at each other. Before Negi could as much as say a word, both of their fists came down upside his head, and stopped him cold.

"Yeah, no. We're not letting you walk into an agreement with terms THAT open," Chisame said, simply.

"Even I'm not that stupid," Asuna said, glaring at him.

"But I have to!" Negi protested. "Besides, Master is nice. I'm sure she won't make me do anything that's very painful or humiliating... right?" he asked, turning a hopeful look towards Evangeline.

She grinned, evily, as she crossed her arms and looked at them with contempt. "Of course not, boya... you're just going to have to become my husband, is all."

"You ARE aware that's illegal, right?" Asuna asked.

"It's just a head start, Kagurazaka," Evangeline said, grinning widely. "I'll stake my claim on boya now to avoid problems when he's legal," she said, shrugging.

Chisame frowned. "You can't be thinking of accepting this," she said, looking at where Negi stood, eyes closed and thinking, a serious frown on his face.

He nodded. "You're right. I don't need to think," he said, opening his eyes. "I accept."

Evangeline promptly lost her grin. "Wa- really?" she asked, a curious expression on her face.

"Yes," Negi confirmed, nodding, with an easy smile on his face. "I like Master, so I don't think it'd be too bad to be married," he said.

Hearing this, Evangeline let out a loud, triumphant laugh that would haunt the nightmares of small children for centuries.

* * *

Harry James Potter was a happy child.

He lived in a small cottage in the woods of Mahora Academy City, the extremely large campus of the largest school in the entire world, which he also attended. The cottage was small only on the outside, though, as within it was a large, if still cozy, and lavish home for both him and his family. He had parents, though he didn't look like them.

There was his father, a rather tall young man of some eighteen or so years. There were minor similarities between him and his father, one of which was the hair, which on both of them was messy, though while Harry's hair would curl if he allowed it to grow long, his father's hair would fall behind his back in a cascade of spikes. The color couldn't be any more different, as Harry's hair was as dark as the night while his father's was a bright, fiery red. There were other similarities, such as their facial structures, specifically their cheekbones and chin, being similar, and their mannerisms being similar as well, but beyond that, there wasn't much to compare them with.

Particularly because while his adoptive father was rather tall, Harry found himself on the shorter end of the spectrum, when compared to his classmates at least. Given that he was an English boy comparing himself to Japanese boys, this was even more noticeable, as the height average for either country was against him.

However, if Harry had few similarities with his father, then he had none with his mother... except their height. Admittedly, this was because his mother looked, for all the world, as if she was only ten years old, which was quite distracting. She was blonde, with very long and silky smooth hair... Harry liked his mother's hair a whole lot, because it was so soft and it annoyed her a lot when he or his father ran their hands through it.

There was also her tendency to wear black, and more disturbing to Harry, the tendency to wear outfits so risqué that people'd often wondered if the woman who sometimes dropped by to pick him up from grade school was some sort of erotic cosplayer.

Oh. Hadn't mentioned that, right?

Harry's mother didn't always look like she was ten years old. Sometimes, she used her magic, her inherent power, to transform herself into an adult woman, with all that it entailed, including sizable breasts, a pert behind and of course, the stature to accompany it. Privately, Harry liked his mother's smaller form better. There were many more ways to play with her when her arms weren't long enough to keep him away without him being able to do anything about it.

Harry liked his parents a lot. His father was a hero, a very important one at that, who had once saved an entire world! And he did it because it was the right thing to do, not for the sake of a reward, or anything of the sort.

His mother, meanwhile...

Well, if his father was cool, then his mother was the coolest. Simply because she was an evil villain, and everyone knows that the villain is always cooler than the hero. They got to wear all the best, most stylysh clothes, they had the best lairs, and Harry thought that the cottage he lived in was an example of this, and failing that, he could always mention the resort palace his mother owned, and more importantly...

Villains had the best songs and the most memorable lines, as well.

So while Harry thought his father was a very cool guy and all, he was certain that his mother was a whole lot cooler. Then again, young Harry's perspective was a bit skewed. After all, he'd grown up in a household where there was a murderous doll that threatened with disemboweling every one of his classmates he brought home, and he had robot maids taking care of each and every one of his needs. His mother was the most notorious criminal of all time, with the highest bounty ever put on a criminal, and his father was the nicest and most cheerful eldritch abomination you could find on Earth.

People who met his family thought that they were quite weird, and Harry often had trouble socializing with his peers because of it, as he was always ready to fervently defend them. It didn't help that spending time in a resort that lengthened an hour into a day as well as being raised by two people who didn't know what a 'childhood' was led to Harry maturing mentally quite a bit ahead of his peers.

Fortunately, however, Harry had loads and loads of aunts, all of whom hovered around his home and visited fairly often, and who had been quite helpful and supportive of him, which helped him a lot during his younger years.

Later on, however, there was another, easier solution, when Harry showed signs of a bright enough mind that would allow Evangeline's robotic maids to tutor him so he could skip grades, and be with his peers, instead of around children.

Eventually, Harry wound up with boys no less than four years his senior, and while there was a little friction at the start, he soon made friends. He had two best friends who'd been the first to be friendly to him, on his first day, and who'd been the ones who'd basically made the experience of school worthwhile. Otherwise, he'd just have quit school to be home schooled by his mother's robot maids.

Harry's best friends were also quite fond of his home, though whether it be because of the cute robot maids, the great and plentiful food or the fact that at least one of them got along really well with Chachazero (mostly because he was an aspiring horror writer and Chachazero knew a lot about how to scare people shitless), Harry didn't know. Where you to ask them, however, they would've just told you that it was because of all of the above, as well as the size of his house allowing them to hang out comfortably, the fact that Harry owned the latest game consoles.

And it'd be a lie.

The true reason they had unanimously decided to hang out at Harry's house was simply because of his mother.

Because both boys were experiencing puberty, and it was widely agreed in their classroom that Harry Springfield's mother was a Grade S MILF. Those two were the envy of their male classmates, because their inherent niceness had allowed them to grow close to the boy whose mother was the source of many a masturbation fantasy. The fact that the two told tales of what that woman wore around the house, which was not much, had certainly helped their popularity a great deal.

Having Harry around to confirm his mother's ridiculously sexy outfits, and even pictures of it, certainly didn't hurt.

Some would wonder why Harry never reacted to the comments about his mother in a stereotypically violent fashion... and that would be because Harry understood that his mother was an evil villain, and evil villains are supposed to be sexy as all hell. Therefore, it only made sense for everyone to lust after his mother, given that she was a villain. Plus, it didn't seem to bother her, so why should he let it bother him?

Though it was a bit annoying to have everyone comment on how hot his mother was every time they saw him, due to repetition, if nothing else.

There was also some weirdness in that his father sometimes slipped and called his mother 'Master' instead of her name, but she seemed to always be happy when that happened, so he didn't mind it too much.

And his father couldn't stop crying whenever they watched the Lion King.

There was also the fact that for some reason, every time one or sometimes more of his aunties came over, he'd be kicked out of the house for the day, while they'd discuss adult matters he was apparently too young for still.

He'd tried to sneak in and listen in on their conversations, but never had quite managed it.

They must've been really fun conversations, too, because his aunts would always have the biggest smiles on their faces when they left, and his mom would always be smugly satisfied afterwards.

His father always looked really tired those days, though. Harry knew his father worked really, really hard all the time, but he never looked quite as tired as during the days when three or four of his aunties would drop by at the same time.

Maybe he'd understand when he was older. That's what they kept telling him, anyway. His mother was always on Harry's side, though, arguing that his father had started having those adult conversations not much older than Harry was, but she was always rebuked with the fact that Harry's father had special circumstances and no one should have to be in adult conversations before they were ready.

Then it became a very heated debate until they took it into the resort, usually locking it behind them.

Things were always okay after that, so Harry assumed they were just having more adult conversations. His auntie Chisame and his auntie Chachamaru seemed to have a lot of those with his mother, whenever the two dropped by, and his father was usually dragged into it unwillingly.

All in all, Harry was enjoying his life, and he was ready to continue living simply the way he was... at least, until that letter arrived.

What letter?

Well, one that should have been delivered by an owl instead of an old man, and one who invited him to a school of magic. A letter that Harry had been expecting, though he'd feared it might not come.

Finally, the time to attend Hogwarts had arrived.

* * *

"You got everything?" Evangeline asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not flying all the way to Scotland to fetch your toothbrush, so you better make sure you've got everything," she said.

At this, Negi scratched the back of his neck, chuckling lightly, "you've got your checklist, right?" he asked.

"Yes, I've got everything," Harry said, nodding, before walking up to his father and giving him a hug. "I'll miss you, dad," he said.

"Don't worry, we'll be seeing each other again as soon as christmas rolls around," Negi said, patting his head.

Then Harry turned to his mother and hugged her, as well. However, as they were nearly the same height, this hug was a lot less awkward in that sense, but a lot more awkward in that Evangeline merely awkwardly patted his back as he hugged her. "I'll make you proud, mom..."

Evangeline smiled for a bit. "You're going to be a great villain one day, Harry," she said. "You better don't disappoint me!"

Negi smiled at the sight of his wife and son interacting. Usually, Evangeline was rarely that affectionate, even when it was just himself and Harry... it was clear that she'd at least grown a little attached to the son he'd forced on her. He was glad he'd made that choice, so long ago. Even if this hadn't been what he pictured his future like back then... He could say he was happy and satisfied with how it'd gone.

Even if now he was resisting the urge to cry like a baby while his son, the one he'd raised when he himself had been but a child forced to mature faster by circumstance, went to school back on their shared homeland.

"Are you sure Dumbledore said it was okay to take one of the Chacha models with you?" Negi asked, looking at his son, trying to find something to talk about so as to stem the tears in an effort to not look like a fool in front of his son. Plus, he knew Evangeline liked it when he cried on her, even if she later denied it.

"Yes. He said he could easily pass it off as a homunculus familiar," Harry said, nodding.

That was good. Neglecting his studies while he was away would've been bad.

Well, that, and every villain needed to have their trusty henchmen. Harry would be naked without at least one robot servant, at least until he could start building his evil empire within the school. Evangeline approved of his reasoning, of course. Negi simply gave up when they turned two against one on him.

* * *

And so Harry sent his owl response to Hogwarts, to McGonagall.

Except, instead of the usual response, he'd been coached by Evangeline into writing a properly threatening note.

He stood at the top of a recent tower that had been built into Mahora's main building, after an incident involving the most recent class 3-A and a truck full of tapioca pudding had resulted in the destruction of the old Clock Tower, with an owl resting on his arm. He knew he had to make a properly villainous move here, as per his mother's teachings. "When you get to Hogwarts, Owl, tell them that I'm coming to rule!" Harry commanded, and gestured with the arm the owl was perched in for it to move.

And it departed, its message to be delivered.

Harry giggled to himself, smiling. "That was so fun!" he said, before heading back down.

Meanwhile, as she scrying from a safe distance, Evangeline cackled triumphantly.

Negi slumped. "I'm just hoping Hogwarts will still be standing by christmas..."

* * *

"Huh..."

The owl hooted.

McGonagall blinked. "Maybe we should've left him with the Dursleys."

Albus Dumbledore smiled. "He's a good boy," he said, patting the head of Gryffindor on the shoulder.

"I knew Potter was sure to grow into an entitled brat, but this is ridiculous," Snape commented.

"Oh dear," Flitwick said, "Harry Potter, a villain!?"

"Merlin help us all," Sprout added.

"You're all doomed! YOU'RE DOOMED! DOOM!" Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait yelled. "DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

Everyone looked at the portrait. Including the other portraits.

"Do you not see it, fools!? The Dark Evangel trained him to be her successor! Her legacy!"

At this, all the heads of house looked at each other, while Dumbledore merely smiled indulgently.

"Oh shit," Snape vocalized, and for a moment, the houses were truly united as every one felt a chill run down their spines.

* * *

Interesting Notes:

Harry's threatening one liner comes from one Bartuc the Bloody, also known as the Warlord of Blood, or due to a hilarious misspelling in Median XL, the Warblood of Blood. The original is "When you get to hell, Maggot, tell them that I'm coming to rule!"

It's a Legacy of Blood.

The two guys who Harry befriended are expies of Junpei and Ryoji from Persona 3. There might be an omake or two in which they're distracted by Evangeline's sheer sexiness. She does it intentionally. Evil is supposed to be sexy and tempting. And yes, this does mean that Harry attended school with Yukari as well. Fuuka's in another class, though, and Akihiko and Mitsuru are both a year ahead, so he never met them.

Also, for those of you who know me, you know that I don't like the trend that plagues Negima crossovers with practically everything.

Namely, having a crossover character drop in and instantaneously gain a harem, usually also becoming better at everything than everyone else, and overall being a gigantic Gary Stu. It doesn't help that, usually, they're also irredeemable monsters and, if not outright pedophiles, then at least borderline.

It should be clear that Harry does not have a premade harem, that he is not in a relationship with Evangeline (who is the most common crossover pairing with Negima... seriously, it's impressive how often Evangeline is paired with the self insert wearing the crossover character's skin) except the one where she is his adoptive mother, and even then, she's not his adoptive mother because she took an inexplicable interest in him, as it's so often shown.

Seriously, Evangeline wouldn't give a flying fuck about Harry. Or Britain, for that matter. Face it, guys, if Dumbledore came around asking for her help she'd just laugh in his face and tell him to go get buggered. And Dumbledore would never ask HER of all people. The only reason she does in this fic is because she grew attached AFTER Negi had already convinced to take him in. Without Negi involved, neither Dumbledore nor Harry would be able to pique her interest.

And don't tell me that they'd offer to lift her curse, because I very much doubt they can break a curse cast by Nagi, who's basically the world's strongest man on raw power alone.

So... yeah. This fic is the result of trying to make a somewhat plausible situation in which Harry would wind up in Evangeline's care.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry absent mindedly adjusted his robes on him.

He was thankful that Hogwarts had black robes for their uniform, but the fact that they were simple black robes with not much to distinguish them from any other set of robes in the world annoyed him quite a bit. This wasn't proper garb. His mother would laugh at him for wearing a dress regardless, but she'd be less mean about it if it was at least a cool set of robes.

To that end, Harry had decided to get his own set of custom robes. Because the villain needed to have the coolest clothes, and having the same plain robes as everyone else just wouldn't do. Something over the top and unique would do. To that end, instead of the robes that would cover the entirety of his body, Harry had instead opted for what amounted to a trenchcoat that could pass as a robe, in black leather of course.

He wore it open, with no shirt underneath. If you've got it, flaunt it, his mother often said, and as such, Harry found himself flaunting the body he'd gained from the martial arts training he'd undergone. After seeing his auntie Ku Fei and what she could do with just plain old physical training, Harry had been inspired, and thus joined her and his father as they practiced and trained themselves. Even if neither really needed the training, as Ku Fei was recognized as the greatest living martial arts master and his father was the most powerful mage recognized in actuality, they still trained every day, and Harry had joined them as soon as he was able.

It'd taken a long time for him to come up to any level that he considered acceptable, but hearing both his father and auntie praising him for his progress was very nice. Particularly given the fact that it was part of what little time he could share with his father, who was always busy.

All that training had resulted in Harry turning the body of what could've been a scrawny little boy into something that quite resembled his father during his youth. He had no bulging muscles, as they'd just be a nuisance, but he had a physique that promised very much when he became just a bit older.

His strange manner of dress was noticed, both in King's Cross as well as Platform nine and three quarters.

Both the normal people and the wizards and witches seemed to be quite surprised to find him, though he was thankful about the fact that they limited it to just staring. He was struggling to remember what it was he'd forgotten that morning, and distractions really wouldn't help.

"Excuse me-" someone called, behind him, and something smashed onto his back, throwing him to the ground.

Normally, this would've resulted in a few scrapes and the like, but Harry had taken rougher tumbles before with no injury, and as such, he merely raised an eyebrow as he stood back up.

"Oh shi- I'm so sorry!" a rather high pitched and frantic voice yelled, as the girl driving the cart that had tried to run him over came running to the front of her cart, clearly worried about what had just happened.

Harry looked at her. The most noticeable feature about her was her incredibly bushy hair. The only other noticeable thing were her abnormally large front teeth. Otherwise, she was somewhat plain and bland in appearance. "Oh, no, don't worry. It was an accident," Harry said with a smile that came easily to him, his manners taking over. "Here, let me help you," he said, as he lifted a few of the things that had been knocked off her cart and put them back where they belonged.

"I'm really sorry, though, I should've been watching where I was going," she said, shaking her head, "oh, I've only just crossed the gate and I'm already in trouble!"

Harry waved his hand, almost as if he could dispell her worries by doing so, smiling at her and placing a hand on her shoulder, causing her to look at him. "I told you, don't worry. It was just an accident, you couldn't have seen me there. It was my fault for standing there in the first place. You have nothing to apologize for."

"Thank you, but I really must-" she tried again, but was cut off as Harry laughed.

"Allow me to claim fault for this. It's my duty as a gentleman," he said, nodding at her.

"Thank you..." she said, with a small blush on her face. Even if her appearance was mostly plain, she did blush quite cutely. "I- err- my name- I mean- I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger..." she said, almost shuffling in place.

He smiled and nodded. "Nice to meet you, Hermione. I'm Harry Springfield," technically his name wasn't Springfield, but he didn't really care. Dumbledore had told him that Harry Potter would be recognized by name, but Harry Springfield would not, and both his mother and father had told him that being recognized and thus not allowed to move about freely was quite annoying.

"Nice to meet you, too," Hermione said with a smile.

The sound of a loud whistle caught them both by surprise, though, and she squeaked. "Ah! I've got to rush! I'll go pick a compartment... would you mind riding with me?"

"Ah, sure," Harry said with a nod and a smile. "I'm waiting for my maid to bring me my luggage, but I'll catch up with you in a minute."

"That sounds alright," she said. Hermione blushed a little once more, nodded and departed.

Harry nodded and waved at her as she left. Then he blinked and looked around oddly. "Ah... I just failed at being evil again, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did, Master," a calm, cold and robotic voice told him, as a green haired young woman wearing a french maid outfit appeared walking through the portal.

"Mother will be disappointed," Harry said, frowning slightly.

"She'd say that you are just like your father, Master," the maid said, nodding.

Shaking his head, Harry sighed. "Do you have everything?"

"Affirmative," the maid said, nodding, "shall we go?"

"Yes. Let's board the train. I'll see if I can find Hermione."

* * *

**Villainous Comeback**

**Chapter 2: Eviler Than Thou**

* * *

"I've heard Harry Potter is in this train. Is that true?" a platinum blond boy asked.

It really was the most striking part of him that Harry saw, as the boy stepped in his line of sight. Even though the boy was effeminately pretty, very much so, Harry had seen prettier boys before. The hair kind of reminded him of his mother's, though it was a few shades too light. Maybe closer to auntie Ayaka's hair color.

The green haired maid was stopped from progressing as two burly boys who seemed to have some troll ancestry stepped on either side of the blond.

"Yes. I am he, though I'd much prefer if you refer to me as Harry Springfield," Harry said, holding back the comment that he wished to make, about the boy's rudeness.

"Good. I am Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," the blond said. "You will soon learn that some families are better than others, Potter, and you don't want to be seen making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there, I know who all the right sort are," he said, with a smug smile on his face, offering his hand. "What do you say?"

"Right sort? Wrong sort?" Harry asked, frowning slightly in confusion. "Under which criteria are you judging people? Is it based on alignment? Are you one of those goody two shoes who discriminates against everyone who's not Lawful Good?"

"W-What?" Draco asked, clearly confused by the questions, withdrawing his hand and scratching himself just above the ear as he tried to make sense of it. "What in blazes-"

"I'm afraid I am going to have to decline, in that case. Not only is it awfully rude to exclude others based on such lousy labels as their alignment, but I can't be seen having goody two shoes as allies if I'm going to be the Final Boss who takes over the world," Harry said, nodding to himself.

"That's true, Master. Your mother and father, but mostly your mother, would be proud of your reasoning," the green haired maid said.

Harry nodded to the maid with a smile. "So, I apologize, but I am afraid I can't join your organization, or club, or group. But we can be friends, right?" he asked, patting Draco's shoulder.

"I... Think... What..." Draco said, shaking his head. "Sure. Whatever."

Harry smiled at him. "Great! Now, I did promise my new friend Hermione that I would meet with her, so I'm afraid I am going to have to cut our conversation short. Perhaps next time you could introduce me to your friends, as well?" he said, before waving. "I shall see you later, Draco!"

The maid rushed after him, leaving Draco there, looking kinda stunned.

"The hell just happened?" he asked, mostly to himself.

* * *

"A toad?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly. "No, I have not seen it. My apologies, but do you mind if I help you search?"

"Master. You have an appointment," the maid said.

"Ah, yes, I do. Apologies once more, but you must excuse me, for I really must be moving. It was nice to meet you, Neville, but I must depart."

And so they left, leaving a somewhat dumbfounded young boy behind.

* * *

"Excuse me, but is a girl named Hermione Granger here, perchance?" Harry asked, after having been invited into the compartment.

"No, I don't know anyone by that name," a dark skinned boy said, replying.

"Yeah, it's just us guys here," another, this one a pale skinned redhead, said.

"Apologies for interrupting you. Cheerio!"

And so he left.

"Weird guy," one of the kids said, as they returned to their cards.

* * *

"She's lying. I doubt she'd have met Harry Potter!" a shrill voice said, having been raised.

Hearing his birth name being spoken, Harry turned to the conversation, and then knocked on that compartment's door. He was invited in a few seconds after, and he opened the door.

"Excuse me, but is a girl named Hermione Granger here, by any chance?" he asked, as he looked around and saw that Hermione was, indeed, seated in the compartment. "Ah, there you are! I've had to search quite a few compartments to find you. Apologies for being late," he added, nodding. "Am I interrupting anything?" he asked, seeing the odd faces looking at him.

There were four girls in the compartment. Two of them wore robes, while the others did not. One of those wearing robes was Hermione, who seemed to have changed into her robes first thing upon arrival. The three students he didn't recognize were all reasonably pretty, he mused, but it could very well be the fact that he compared them to the exceptionally plain Hermione unconsciously. Still, he had to become used to the new spectrum of hair colors. At Mahora, there was an abundance of lighter hair colors and few people had darker shades of hair. Well, at least, amongst his family. His classmates had a more subdued palette, but they were still predominantly bright.

"Not at all. Say, you wouldn't happen to be Harry Potter, would you?" one of them asked.

"Why, yes, I do so happen to be Harry Potter, although I much prefer going by my new name, Harry Springfield. It catches less attention, you see?" he said, a smile blossoming on his face.

He thought it was fun, because he couldn't go by Springfield on Mahora or anywhere with a large mage community, simply because his name would be immediately recognized and he'd be swarmed with fans of his father and in one memorable occassion, fans of his mother. And here, he couldn't go with his original name, because people thought he was some celebrity super hero.

That was just shameful. How could they believe that he, of all people, would be a hero? All his heroism was purely accidental, he'd have you know!

"Master. Shall we remain in this compartment?" a calm, robotic and monotonic voice asked.

"Well, we do have space for a few more, don't we?" asked one of the girls.

"These are designed for six seventh years to use, so yes, we do," Hermione said. "I read about it in Hogwarts, A History. Apparently, they decided to stop just short of seven, which is a very magically powerful number, as a joke."

"Granger, we know you've read Hogwarts, A History. You only told us a hundred times," one of the girls said, frowning, "seriously, we get it already."

"Sorry! It's just - I'm really nervous!" Hermione said, apologetically, "aren't any of you nervous or excited?"

"I'm a pureblood, Granger, I'm not going off away from my parents into a world I know nothing about," one of them said. "So, no, I am not."

"Same here," another said.

"I'm a halfblood, but she's my bestie," the third one said, pointing to the girl who'd spoken first, "and I was mostly raised in the magic world anyway."

"I lived in a mixed community, but both of my adoptive parents are magic users, and they can get in contact with me very easily if they need to," Harry supplied.

"I am a magitek product without a real personality. My artificial intelligence is not advanced enough to give me feelings such as anxiety and fear," his maid added.

"... Oh," Hermione said, blinking. "A-Anyway, introductions!"

"Right. Please allow me to introduce myself," Harry said, nodding. "My name is Harry James Potter, but please, just call me Harry. Springfield, if you must. Nice to meet all of you."

"Daphne Greengrass," the first speaker said, flicking her dark hair behind her as she focused her stormy grey eyes on Harry's emerald green ones. "Likewise."

The second, right next to Daphne, smiled and nodded. "I'm Pansy Parkinson. Enchanted," she said with a girlish giggle.

"Tracey Davis," the third one said, copying her friend with a grin, seeing the scowl Daphne sent her way. "the pleasure's all yours, I'm sure."

"Oh, but of course," Harry said, bowing slightly. "Ah, you wouldn't happen to be part of that group that Draco told me about, would you?"

"... That depends. Draco is notoriously unreliable when he is introducing others," Daphne said.

"He's not bad," Pansy defended him. "He's just not very smart."

"Well, look who's talking," Tracey shot at her.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't even know this 'Draco' person."

"Anyway, what group are you speaking about?" Daphne asked.

"Well, I do believe he tried to recruit me for some sort of group. He called them the 'Right' sort, so I assume it is some sort of organization devoted to the upholding of good morals and values, exemplified by those of the Lawful Good alignment. Laudable, but I'm afraid I had to decline. Far be it from me to discriminate based on alignment. As a villain, I can't truly abide organizations of goody goods attempting to subvert my rule, you understand?" he explained, taking a seat next to Tracey, while his maid took a seat next to Daphne.

"What," Daphne asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

"Alignments?" Hermione asked, clearly confused herself.

"I don't get it," Pansy said.

"Oooh, alignments like in Dungeons and Dragons?" Tracey asked, smiling at Harry, then looking somewhat surprised as the other three girls turned to look at her. "What? Roger plays it with his muggle friends... He got an O in muggle studies for it..."

"Something like that," Harry said, raising his hand as if to gesture to emphasize, but then deciding not to. "Ah, but look at me, I'm speaking solely of myself. I'm sure all of you have interesting stories of your own to tell."

"Potter- Springfield, are you telling me that you're trying to be a Dark Lord?" Daphne said, dropping the bomb that she'd been holding.

"That's... that's bad!" Hermione said, causing Daphne to lift an eyebrow and look at her as if she were stupid. "Yes, I know it's obvious," Hermione said, frowning at Daphne.

"Oh, no, not at all," Harry said, shaking his head. "A Dark Lord is such a small time title! I'll be the Evil Overlord!" he said, nodding to himself. "Well, I'm still working on it, anyway."

"Don't you need a proper pseudonym to be an evil Overlord?" Pansy asked. "Evil Overlord Harry just sounds a bit too... plain. You need something impressive, or at least an epithet to your name."

"Every good villain has a cool name," Harry agreed, "but I haven't been able to think of one."

"Are you two paying attention to the conversation you're having?" Tracey asked. "You're seriously talking about this."

"Well, yes, I wouldn't want to walk into this blind," Harry said, "I'd rather be prepared, and mother told me I have to build up myself on my own, since that's how she did when she was young..."

"No, no, I'm not talking about that. I mean, I have the perfect name! How about Vortigern?" she asked.

"Vortigern? What?" Pansy asked.

"King Arthur's grandfather, right?" Harry asked, tilting his head. "Sounds good. I like it. Evil Overlord Vortigern," he said, testing it.

"It's so cool!" Tracey said, giving him a thumbs up.

Daphne scoffed. "Redundancy aside, are you seriously talking about that? Harry Pot- Springfield, as an Evil Overlord? As if! You have 'Hero of the Light' written all over you."

At this, Hermione nodded. "I'm not trying to offend you, Harry, but you're really too nice to be a villain."

But instead of acknowledging her fair and logical point, Harry shook his head. "Just because I'm an evil villain doesn't mean I can't be polite, Hermione," he said. "Really, there is no excuse for rudeness."

"Too true," Pansy said.

"So says the most rude amongst us, the one who didn't even know you're supposed to give your name when you ask for someone else's. Even Draco knows THAT much!" Tracey commented.

Pansy blew a raspberry at her, before pouting and turning her head aside.

Hermione glared at them. "Am I the only one who's still living in a logical world?"

"Welcome to magic, Granger. It doesn't make a lick of sense," Daphne said, shrugging. "I gave up trying to understand it and make sense of it years ago. Trust me, you're better off just letting it go."

"But I can't! He seriously, no joking here, just declared his intention to become an evil overlord, and... and... you're not reacting at all!?" she was starting to raise her tone, so Harry lifted his hand.

"Hermione, please, don't raise your voice," Harry chided, "and... yes, I did indeed state my intended goal."

Truth be told, he didn't really understand what she was reacting so hard to. Everyone knew his mother was evil and nobody made such a big fuzz about it back at home.

"But... you're so nice, how can you be, well, evil?"

Harry laughed.

"There's no reason to be impolite, Granger. Truly, only lesser men resort to rude behavior," Pansy said. "I, for one, welcome our future Evil Overlord Vortigern."

Daphne scoffed once more. "I don't think you're gonna make it as an Evil Overlord. You're too light," she said.

"I assure you I am not," Harry said, frowning slightly. "Why, my father might be a hero, but even he understands the power of Darkness!"

"Aren't the Dark Arts all about hurting another? Frankly, that sounds like an awfully rude and mean thing to do to another," Hermione said with a frown on her face, as if challenging Harry to reconcile his niceness with his evil and his dark affinities.

"Do not confuse the so called 'Dark Arts' with the true power of Darkness, Hermione," Harry said, sagely. "The so called 'Dark Arts' have nothing to do with the element of Darkness. Instead, they are merely a classification of spells whose purpose is purely intended to be inflicting damage or otherwise hurting one's enemies, and sometimes one's allies as well. A disgrace to the name they were given, I assure you!"

At this, the other three looked at him oddly. "Oh, yes? And what, pray tell, is the true 'Darkness' you speak of?"

Harry smiled. "Why, Darkness is just that. Darkness. There's no good and evil in it. It's just power. And it's purpose, it isn't to cause harm, or destroy... No, Darkness doesn't care about such a thing. Darkness doesn't have an opposite, contrary to popular belief. There's no conflict between it and the light. The Darkness consumes everything. Good, evil, light, shadows... everything was once darkness, and everything will return to darkness."

"Huh... That IS an impressive speech about the power of Darkness. You might have it within you to become an Evil Overlord, Potter," Daphne said.

"Please, Miss Greengrass, do call me by the names I asked you to. It's embarrassing to be referred to that way by my peers," Harry said, blushing slightly with an easygoing smile.

"So... you don't practice the Dark Arts?" Hermione asked.

"Of course not. They are the height of rudeness, and an insult to both myself and my parents!" Harry said, shaking his head.

"Sorry," Hermione squeaked, worried that she had offended Harry.

"Nonsense, Hermione, you didn't know any better. You have nothing to apologize for, though I do have to ask you to keep it in mind for the future."

At this, Davis and Parkinson nodded, while Greengrass turned to Hermione. "Not everyone will be as forgiving as Harry, Granger - don't forget that it's an insult to call someone a practitioner of the Dark Arts, as it implies subservience to He Who Must Not Be Named," she explained. "Even those who were actively subservient do not wish to be reminded of that time. So I'd suggest you keep such accusations to yourself."

"It wasn't an accusation, it was an honest question," Hermione defended herself.

"Nonetheless, do try to mind your environment, Hermione," Daphne said. "Now, does anyone have the time?"

"We started moving about an hour ago, so... we've still got quite a ways."

"Good. I'm sleepy. I'm going to take a nap. Don't interrupt it," she warned, before she pulled a set of robes from behind her, which everyone now realized she'd been using as a headrest, and draped them over herself, before she relaxed in her seat.

"Ah, she might have the right idea. I did have quite a long trip on my way to London today, and I am quite tired as well. By your leave, I-"

"You don't have to leave, you know. We'll just talk quietly so you two can sleep," Tracey said.

"Oh. That does sound lovely. I'd rather not have to find an empty compartment so I could sleep," Harry said, nodding. He exchanged seats with his maid, who'd remained so silent that some might've forgotten she was there, and laid comfortably on his seat.

"Master. I shall wake you up when it is appropriate," the maid said, simply.

"You know, I'd almost forgotten she was there. Anyway, what is YOUR story?" Pansy said, turning to the maid.

"See? What'd I tell you? Rude as a knave," Tracey said, shaking her head. "Excuse me, miss, but would you mind forgiving her manners?"

"I am the master's designated Companion. It was originally supposed to be an enchanted doll that would guarantee the master's safety and attend to his needs while at Hogwarts, but due to the Mistress' inability to recall the production process of her enchanted dolls, I was chosen to accompany the young Master here as a replacement. I am here to attend to his needs, but as I am not a combat model, I cannot guarantee his safety," she explained, sitting primly and properly.

"Huh. Your voice sounds all weird and stuff," Pansy commented. "And I didn't know you could bring human servants into Hogwarts. I know some bring elves and some bring familiars with higher functions, but -"

"I am not human," the woman said, simply. "I am an android."

"What's that?" Tracey asked, curious enough to forget her own manners.

"An android is an artificial construct designed to imitate the appearance of a human being. The most advanced process allows for realistic skin and covered joints."

"So you're a very, very realistic golem? Or maybe a homunculus?" Tracey asked.

"Neither. I am an android. I was not created through a magical process," she explained, briefly.

"You're a robot?" Hermione asked, gasping softly. "But I thought it was the thing of Sci-Fi..."

"Correct," the android stated. "My creator has been producing members of the Chacha line of robots for the past thirteen years. As it is too costly and complicated still, mass production has not yet begun."

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"This is incredible... Such an amazing piece of technology here..."

"So, do you mind explaining to us non muggle-savvy folk what any of that means?" Tracey asked.

Hermione looked at them. "You have no idea that you're standing in front of something that will change the world... Okay, okay, let me try to explain..."

And so Hermione set about trying to explain to her new friends what kind of insane milestone of technology they were sitting right next to, while trying to keep her own giddy excitement out of it, as she described the possibility of robots performing the jobs that were too difficult or hazardrous for humans to do.

"So... basically, they're the muggle world's equivalent to house elves?"

Of course, this necessitated an explanation of what House elves were.

Before they knew it, as muggleborn and wizard raised traded information, the time began to fly, as the Hogwarts Express brought them ever closer to the castle that would be their home for the next seven years...


	3. Chapter 3

Hogwarts during the Feast was lively.

What feast?

Any feast.

The students were a lively bunch at any given time, but there was something about the sorting ceremony that brought out house spirit. Even in the usually sour Slytherins, the usually reticent Ravenclaws, and even the passive Puffs. The Gryffindors, of course, always relished on a chance and excuse to be boisterous and as loud as they could possibly be.

No matter what or who it was, everyone would cheer for those who were being sorted to their house. Purebloods would cheer for muggleborn, muggleborn would cheer even though they didn't know why, and even Severus Snape could be seen sporting a tiny smirk whenever a potentially promising student wound up being sent to the snake pit, to contrast with McGonagall's wide smiles regardless of the house the student was sorted to.

And as a conductor to all of this, Albus Dumbledore could not help but feel proud, as he was the one who had turned the sorting ceremony from a calm and quiet affair into the celebration it was these days. Indeed, Albus Dumbledore had encouraged the houses to cheer for their new members as a Deputy Headmaster in his time, and had eventually led to this, this celebration of house spirit.

The houses were set on their tables, they were awaiting the chance to dig into their meals, looking anxiously around. Eyes, both those who had the gleam of experience as well as the ones who shone with curiosity, as they set sights on the ceremony from the other side for the first time, darted around, taking all the sights in. The ceiling, imitating the night sky above, the walls, with their bright and colorful decorations, even the very tables, accented with the colors of the house that occupied them...

Everything was perfect.

He turned to McGonagall. "It's time," he said, giving her a nod.

McGonagall nodded, a smile on her face. This was one of the moments she most enjoyed in her life, to see the first years witnessing Hogwarts' grandeur for the first time, to see them being welcomed into their houses... It was these moments in which she was glad she had chosen to accept her promotion to Deputy Headmistress. Demanding and tough though her accumulation of jobs could be, she would never give any of them up. No, she enjoyed being looked up to by her cubs, she enjoyed being looked up to by those who would sit in the stool, wearing an oversized hat.

Perhaps, she wondered, this is what it would feel like to be a parent, proud as their child takes their first steps into the world of magic.

With a small, almost imperceptible quirk to the corners of her lips, Minerva McGonagall moved swiftly across the Great Hall, heading to where the first year children awaited for her.

Her speech was ready in her mind. Their new families, their houses, awaited them, and she would not add a further delay to this, most sacred of ceremonies.

* * *

**Villainous Comeback**

**Chapter 3: Boot to the Head**

* * *

"Hm... Yes, yes, I see it in you, boy... you could be a great hero. The greatest the wizarding world has ever seen. It's all here within you, you've got the power, you've got the mind, and you've got the heart of a hero, so there's no doubt that it'll be-"

"Pardon?" Harry thought, interrupting the hat. "But did you just call me a hero? I'm not a hero. I'm the villain," Harry thought, a matter of fact tone to it that couldn't really be replicated with a real voice. Sometimes, speaking in one's mind has advantages.

"Oh, but you are. It's all here, like I said. Or, perhaps you wish to remain low profile? That's another heroic quality, you know. You could be great, the greatest even. So what do you say, eh?" the hat asked.

"I'm not a hero. A hero can't take over the world," Harry replied, frowning a little. "So, do please reconsider your choice. I'd much rather go to Slytherin. I mean, the snake theme, the fact that it's populated mostly by wealthy purebloods, the fact that their dorms are in the dungeon... it practically screams 'evil villain House', so how could I go anywhere else?"

"Huh. That's an unfortunate description. You know, you might have a point about them looking like storybook villains," the hat admitted, "but it'd be hard to move them elsewhere at this point."

"That would defeat the point of me wanting to go there, wouldn't it?" Harry countered. "I don't want them to change. If I am going to be an evil villain, I need to make friends with all the obviously villainous people so that I may later use their wealth and influence to propel myself to the top. Mother said it's very important that I never use my own money for this sort of thing, that forcing others to pay for you is how a proper Evil Overlord makes his or her transactions."

"That's not good," the hat said in his head, completely deadpan.

"Of course it isn't. I'm evil," Harry countered with a bright smile on his face.

"To say that with such an expression on your face... You're too nice to be an evil overlord. It has to be Gryffindor. You've got a hero's heart beating in your chest," the hat said, almost as if daring Harry to reply.

"That could never be," Harry said, getting a bit irritated at the obstinate piece of felt. "Isn't Gryffindor the stereotypical heroic type's house? The brave knights in shining armor? What kind of evil Overlord is a heroic knight in shining armor?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You'd be surprised how many thought they were brave knights in shining armor... actually, you might be the first I come across who sets off WANTING to be an evil overlord," the hat said. "Okay, so it's not Gryffindor. Let me see a bit more..." the hat said, as it continued to dig through Harry's mind.

"Take your time," Harry said, closing his eyes, almost as if allowing the hat to peek through his head.

"Are you sure you don't want to be the slightest bit like your father? I'm sure he'd have picked Gryffindor," the hat said.

"My father is a hero, I'm not," Harry said, giving a shoulder shrug.

"Well... you've got a good example to live by in him. His loyalty is commendable, as is yours. You're not afraid to work hard either, are you? Yes, yes. You've got as much claim to Hufflepuff as you do to Gryffindor... They'd make great minions, too. Loyal and hardworking," the hat explained, and Harry could almost feel its grin within his mind.

"Image is a very important part of villainy," Harry countered. "I really do need to go to the obvious bad guy house if I am going to be an obvious bad guy."

"Isn't that kind of counter productive?" the hat asked.

"Why? I'm not trying to hide anything..." Harry said. "It's easier to do things if you're upfront."

"Well, you've got a point... That's the intellectual's approach, figuring out the simplest and most logical path. Why, a shoe in for Ravenclaw, the house of genius! What say you, then?" the hat asked.

"I don't think I'd fit amongst them. I'm not a genius," Harry said, frowning, "plus, aren't they all about knowledge for knowledge's sake? I want to use what I have..."

"Okay, fine! But don't come crying to me later if you want a resort because you don't like the dungeons! I'm giving you one last chance," the hat warned, its ultimatum clear.

"No, I'm pretty sure of my choice," Harry firmly confirmed, nodding resolutely.

"Very well, then! So it shall be, as you've declared, you shall be in SLYTHERIN!"

Harry smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Hat," he said, out loud this time, standing up and handing the hat back to McGonagall. Then he walked to the Slytherin table.

Not once did he spare a look to the thoroughly shocked audience, which remained silent for a full twenty seconds before the Slytherin table erupted into a roar of cheers.

* * *

Harry bowed slightly at the three slytherin girls he'd met priorly, a smile on his face. "Hello."

"Twelve minutes? That's got to be a record," Pansy said, a smirk on her face. "But of course, breaking every record there's just standard modus operandi for our lord Vortigern, eh?"

"But of course! Even records I didn't know were there," Harry said, nodding at her. He took a seat next to Tracey and opposite to Pansy, who sat next to Daphne.

"You need to work on your grand exit, though," Tracey said. "You need to have a better evil walk."

"Yes. Your clothes, too, are too simplistic. Everyone knows that a proper Dark Lord needs an overly intrincate evil armor, with spikes and all in black and everythin," Pansy said, rubbing her chin.

"I thought so, too, but this was the most they would let get away with. And even that's only because Dumbledore vouched for me. I wanted to at least get ominous, spiky shoulder pads, but it was vetoed..." Harry said, almost pouting.

"Hm... there are several new forms of clothes that muggles have developed that are not covered in Hogwarts rules. Have you thought about wearing a double breasted peacoat? It should fit the same aesthetic you're trying to create, depending on how the buttons work it would be easy to remove if it obstructs your movements, and it will look a great deal cooler than what you are wearing. Plus, it will be a great deal classier," Daphne said, nodding sagely. "I have to suggest a deep burgundy or maybe even a very dark purple. Too much black makes you look emo, not threatening."

Then Daphne noticed that all her classmates, even those not involved in the conversation, where looking at her. All, but Tracey, who sniggered a little.

"What? That thing over there," she said, gesturing to Tracey, "went through a 'wannabe goth' phase two years ago. I had to learn the difference between gothic lolita and emo to properly advise her on what would bring out her features best. Speaking of that, you really should return to those overly frilly dresses, you're the only person I've seen who can pull them off so well."

Tracey pouted at her. "I would if you agreed to paying for them. I'm not made of money. You are," she said.

"And I've told you that the reason my family is still rich is that we don't make such silly expenses," Daphne said, rolling her eyes. "But seriously, Harry, you might want to consider longer hair, as well. You're still a bit young for the 'just shagged' look to really fit you."

Harry blinked. "What's 'shagging'?" he asked.

"It's a slang term for the act of copulation," Daphne said.

"Oh," Harry said, nodding. "What's copulation?"

At this, Pansy clamped a hand over Daphne's mouth just as she opened it to speak. "I'll tell you when you need to know," Pansy said, glaring at Daphne and then reducing her tone, "Daphne, this boy is going to remain an innocent until such a time we NEED him to not be anymore. Not everyone is like you with your freakish detachment of everything. I didn't need to hear that last year, Tracey didn't need to hear it four months ago, and he doesn't need to hear it NOW, are we clear?"

Daphne scowled, but nodded. "It's pointless," she said, her voice conveying her obvious frustration.

"I know you think that, but I don't think that, and dammit, I'm not letting you ruin someone else's dellusions unless we absolutely NEED to, okay? Far as he's concerned, he just appeared one day, okay!?" Pansy said.

"Oh. Okay," Harry said, shrugging, then he turned back from the seventh year boy he'd been speaking to. "Why does nobody want to tell me..?" he asked, mostly himself.

"It's not important," Pansy said, finally. "Now, let's just eat. I'm starving!"

Harry shrugged. "It's my first time having british food. Thank you for the meal," he said, nodding to himself, before grabbing the fork with some apprehension.

* * *

The food was a little heavy and more greasy than he was used to. Even though the maids at his home prepared all sorts of different food so that there was consistently varied meals, they were made by a Japanese girl aided by a girl of undetermined nationality, based on the cooking abilities of that girl of undefined nationality, and as a result, they had a clearly asian bent and preference to what they cooked. The difference was noticeable to him, but he didn't think it was bad. Just... different.

He still preferred the food back at home, but it was mostly because it was his home, and he was already missing it.

A prefect lead them to their common room, giving them a small lecture as they went. The moment that he crossed the Great Hall's boundaries, there was a robotic follower behind him. He smiled a little, remembering how terribly efficient and quick the Chacha models could be. "I shall follow you to your quarters, Master," the green haired maid said, tone flat.

This caused a bit of a disturbance amongst the Slytherin students. Many instantly balked at seeing Harry Potter get special treatment. It was a fear that most of them had, that because Harry was in their house, he'd get special treatment that would annoy them greatly. Such as getting a human, and an attractive one at that, as a personal servant. Needless to say, it didn't go over well with the grand majority.

"I can't allow that. Dorms are gender segregated for a reason," the male prefect said, his face directing an ugly scowl at the obviously adult maid that followed one of the first years.

"I am registered as my master's familiar. As I am not an owl, the Owlery is not appropriate as a resting space," the maid said, looking at him quizzically, "therefore, I must spend the night at my master's bedchambers."

"So the rules for cat familiars apply, huh? Didn't know it was possible to register a human as a familiar, though... would've made my nights that much more fun," the female prefect noted, rubbing her chin. "I wonder if I can get Joey registered as my familiar?"

"She's not human," Harry said. "she's a r-"

"Highly advanced form of homunculus, and let's leave it at that, okay?" Tracey interrupted. "Granger had to give us an hour long explanation of what a robot is, Harry, we don't have the time."

"Ohhh... Hey, I wonder if I can get an alchemist to make a sexy homunculus for me..?" the female prefect questioned to herself, before shaking her head with a blush.

The male prefect blinked. "Uh... let's... let's just move on," he said, his palm meeting his face. "Okay, Potter, we'll allow it this one time, but you'll have to talk to Professor Snape about it."

Harry nodded.

"Anyway, rooms will be assigned to three people. No more. Don't forget how to enter our room. Any password change will be posted with a week's advance notice unless circumstances prevent it. Tomorrow, at six AM Sharp, there will be a house meeting. Attendance is mandatory for each and every last one of you. Within these walls, your name means nothing, your money means nothing and your ancestry means nothing. Here, you are at the bottom of the totem pole until you prove otherwise," the male prefect explained as he showed them how to open the Common Room's entrance. "If you have problems, the prefecs' names as well as their pictures are listed on that billboard," he said, entering and gesturing to his right.

As the students followed him, they all found themselves meeting exactly what they expected to be met with, silver, green and snake motifs everywhere.

The billboard was, in fact, where the prefect said it'd be. "Remember. Six AM Sharp. Every second you're late is likely to get you in Professor Snape's bad graces. Do not antagonize him. He is our biggest protection against the rest of the school and without him, you WILL be miserable, so you don't want to piss him off."

"Master, do you want me to wake you, or should I set a different alarm clock?" the maid asked, turning to Harry.

"You will do," Harry said, nodding. "I am quite sleepy, as this has been quite a long day. I haven't had a chance to get a real rest. Would you mind too much if I retire for the night?"

"Go ahead, Potter, your room's the one with your name on the plaque. These are permanent, so get used to it," the male prefect said.

"Oh ho, and if you're feeling naughty and want to go out after lights out, remember: We will know, and you're going to be punished! So don't do it... or rather, do it. I want to try my hand at making the ickle firsties cry like the babies they are! They're just so cute..." the female prefect said, hugging herself and wiggling in place as she did.

Shivers went down most everyone's spines.

"What is WRONG with you!?" the male prefect questioned.

"Well, you haven't put out in MONTHS, and I have needs too, you know!" she said, glaring at him.

"There are firsties here for Merlin's sake! You're all dismissed, go to sleep or play with your dollies or whatever it is you firsties do!" the male prefect yelled, making wild gestures with his hands. The firsties did clear out, though at a slower pace than he'd hoped, clearly.

"Is this because I pushed a finger up your-" the female prefect started to say, before she was silenced with a spell.

"What was Snape thinking when he made YOU of all people prefect!?"

"That she is going to be an extremely good disciplinarian of first year students," a slow, grim and commanding voice spoke.

A man in robes as dark as the night swept into the room, his robes billowing behind him as he did. His eyes were closed, but his expression betrayed nothing more than perfect calm and control of his every feature.

"So cool..!" Harry gushed, as he stared with wide, awed eyes at the entrance of the man who no doubt had to be the 'Professor Snape' that was supposed to head Slytherin.

The image of calm and collected aloofness was broken when the man found himself thoroughly shocked at that pronounciation. "What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and glaring at the first years that remained, before his eyes focused on Harry. "What did you say, Potter?"

"Ah, my name's Springfield, sir. No offense to my birth parents, but I didn't grow up with them," Harry said, almost apologetically.

"Tch," Snape frowned, "whatever," he said, taking a deep breath. "What did you say, Springfield?"

"I want to learn how to do that, sir! It'd give me the ability to perform the dramatic entrance that any villain worth their salt is capable of doing! Mother never told me how she got her clothes to billow like that or reflect moonlight even though they were matte black," he said, frowning as he remembered the time spent pestering his mother into teaching him how to properly pull off the theatrics of villainy. "And father cheats to do his, since he has wind spirits do it for him," he said, frowning in distaste as he remembered the incredible amounts of time he spent trying to acquire that same skill to no avail.

"Just... just go to sleep," Snape said, shaking his head. "I am too tired to deal with whatever insanity you've cooked in that thick dunderhead skull of yours right now."

"Perhaps later, then," Harry said, clearly disappointed. "My apologies for bothering you, sir."

Snape looked at him for a few seconds before he turned around and walked away.

"Well, that was awfully rude," Harry said, crossing his arms and pouting. "Not even a 'by your leave'..."

"That's Professor Snape for you. This is him on a good mood. Normally, he'd have assigned detention to a firsty bothering him," the male prefect said. "Tomorrow, you'll learn the basic rules you're going to have to abide by in Slytherin house, and the code of conduct we expect you to follow. You'll also learn how to handle yourself around Professor Snape, so then you can see how to properly make a request of him. I wouldn't bother with THAT one, though. Nobody's ever managed to drag the secret out of how he does that thing with his robes out of him," he continued, a small smile on his face. "Good luck on your attempt, though."

"Silence me, will you!?"

The male prefect paled.

Harry shrugged. "Excuse me," Harry said, bowing slightly and departing to his room, as had been his intention quite a while ago.

* * *

Harry's room was shared by Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. The former's name he thought was very girly and the latter's name which reminded him of someone, but he couldn't quite put his finger on who. Might've had to do with some of his history lessons on the Magic World, but he couldn't recall those for the life of him. It wasn't his fault, after all, nobody had ever really put a big emphasis on the recent past when teaching him.

Whether it be because people didn't want to remember or because they didn't want to feel his head with tales about their heroism, Harry didn't know, nor did he really care all that much. History wasn't very fun.

As he entered his room, he thought of introducing himself and bowed slightly to them to do so. "Hello. I am Harry Springfield, pleased to meet the both of you," he said, smiling at his new roommates. He almost felt like stepping back out when he noticed how unfriendly the faces of the two already in the room were.

He was thankful for the reassuring presence of the robotic maid behind him. He knew that while asleep he was defenseless, but she didn't need to sleep. This was the evil badguy house, and he wouldn't put it past anyone here to be a treacherous little weasel. It was just to be expected that in every evil group there would always be a traitor waiting for a chance to stab you in the neck while you're asleep.

It just made sense, and was common etiquette. Of course, just because it made sense didn't mean that Harry wanted to be the schmuck who got stabbed because he hadn't thought to put protections around himself.

Both of them scoffed at him. "Theodore Nott," the pale skinned, dark haired one said, sitting on the bed furthest to the wall, while on the one in the middle, facing him, sat the other one, with darker, almost olive-toned skin, whom Harry assumed to be Blaise.

"Blaise Zabini," the other one introduced himself, confirming Harry's thoughts.

They'd been both incredibly rude, and clearly dismissive of him. Harry frowned internally, but tried to not let their rudeness get to him. "Okay. I'll take the free bed, then."

No further words were exchanged that night, as Harry quickly went to sleep. Even having had a nap, he was still quite exhausted from the long flight to London followed by the long train ride.

Still, Harry sighed, at least they could be the least bit polite.

"Hm... You're Potter's maid, right?" one of them asked. Harry couldn't quite distinguish the voice as he was already falling asleep.

"I am the young master's personal maid."

* * *

Despite his tiredness the earlier morning, Harry found himself being thrown back into the land of the living at five thirty.

The Chacha models, as a rule, tended to be smart enough to be passed as human servants in some occassions. And it showed, as instead of being woken up at Six AM, Harry had been woken up at five thirty, so that he would be ready at six. It was these times that Harry thought that Hakase was underappreciated, wherever she was. That kind of genius and foresight was a lifesaver and so convenient that Harry could hardly imagine life without it. He could mostly blame his extremely lazy mother for it, but he wouldn't complain about the maids looking after him.

Particularly after they stopped having cold fingers. It was hard to enjoy someone scrubbing his back if they had hard and cold metal fingers. The warm, realistic skin most of them wore nowadays had Harry enjoying their attentions a great deal more than before.

His rommates were both still asleep, and as such, he decided to make as little noise as possible as he went about getting ready for the day. Admittedly, it was a great deal easier when you weren't doing most of it yourself. Harry's laziness regarding his personal hygiene was deeply rooted and aided by the terrible role models that were his lazy mother and his father who seemed to have a terrible aversion to bathing himself. At least their maids were programmed to not allow them to go dirty. Even half asleep as he was, Harry found himself washed squeaky clean in fifteen minutes. He was thankful for the fact that the dorms had attached bathrooms. Wandering the dungeons after lights out was forbidden, after all, and quite dangerous if you didn't know where you were going. Hogwarts' dungeons were old school labyrinthine, with lots of dead ends.

Wouldn't be such a problem if they didn't pretend to be paths towards the exit. And if the doors opened when they should. And if the walls stopped pretending to be doors. And if they were properly lit.

Okay, so there were a lot of reasons why it would be difficult to navigate the dungeons without an experienced guide until you'd mapped them out yourself.

Which was all the more reasons to be thankful that he didn't have to.

As six approached, Harry was quickly and impeccably dressed, in an outfit similar, but not quite identical, to what he'd worn to the feast. He now had a shirt. It was a compromise, because it was kinda chilly, but he didn't want to lose the factor of 'obvious villainy' that dressing like he did brought along.

Still, he'd have to look into Daphne's suggestions. It figured that she'd know a lot better about what would look good on him than he himself would. It just made sense.

Come five to six, Harry moved out of the room, dutifully followed by his attendant, and found a place to sit on the common room, expertly ignoring the eyes that settled on him, as he waited.

Soon enough, Professor Snape would show up. The ground rules were important. After all, he had to know what was wrong before he could do it.


	4. Chapter 4

"I should probably do some training," Harry said, as he was accompanied by his ever faithful maid, who seemed to be entirely unconcerned about pretty much anything, even as the students of Slytherin looked intently at them. "What do you think?"

"I don't," the maid replied.

"And yet you can be cheeky," Harry said, grinning.

There was no reply at that, but Harry laughed a little nonetheless.

"We'll practice when we've got a free hour or so, okay?" Harry asked, tilting his head so he could see the nod, answering with one of his own.

When he did get to the door that would lead him to the common room, Harry stopped. "What time is it?" he asked.

"We're exactly on time," the maid said.

Harry hummed to himself. "Well, I can't really be on time... because that's what a good guy does... but I wouldn't want to be rude. I've got to set an example. Maybe it's not a matter of alignment, but manners? Mother complains about Asuna having the manners of a goat often enough, so I guess it's okay to be on time," Harry said, nodding to himself.

"Unfortunately, we are now one minute late," his maid replied.

Harry blinked. Then he pouted. "You lied to me," he said, accusing his maid. "Whatever... Let's just go in."

Snape wasn't even there yet. He arrived at 6:03. How awfully rude, Harry mused, to hold them to a standard the man himself didn't even uphold. Truly, hypocrisy was the worst of traits! Villains like them should be honest, not like the goody-goods that kept making up justifications for their actions as they went. He even made them sit on the ground. Harry told his maid to wait to a side, simply because she'd stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd of firsties. It made him think about how one of the smaller bodies might've been a better choice, but he supposed that'd change when he grew.

"... I will be clear, because I will explain this once, and only this once. You are now Slytherins," Snape began, his eyes sweeping over the gathered first years. "What this means and what this entails, you should all know. Most, if not all, of you have been raised for this. You know what to expect. You know the rules. Nevertheless, I will NOT tolerate misbehavior, and I will not allow you to claim ignorance for this. Thus, I shall explain to you what your role, obligations and privileges shall be."

There was a low murmur, but it was quickly quietened when Snape glared at a specific point in the crowd, where it originated.

"All of you are now a part of House Slytherin. What this means, is that outside of this common room, you are an united front. No matter your personal squables with your housemates, you will ALWAYS take their side in any confrontation. Cliché as it might sound, you are legion, for we are many," Snape explained, clasping his hands behind his back and bending over. It gave him the menacing appearance of looming over the first years, who'd been sitting on the floor. "Within these walls, you are all subject to the code of conduct that I demand of you. I will not coddle you, and I will not protect you from your own incompetence or stupidity. Make no mistake, while I will not take points for your actions, that does not mean I will not punish you. If I discover any of you acting in an untoward way, you shall serve severe punishments in return. Your wealth, your parents' influence... all of that means nothing to me. And that includes you, Potter, your fame means nothing to me!"

"Sir. My name is Springfield. I'd be thankful if you could start using it," Harry said, helpfully, smiling at the sour looking man.

"I don't care what you wish to name yourself. You will answer to Potter," Snape said.

Harry's smile never faltered, not even for a second. "Sir, I have been nothing but polite to you, and I will ask you to do the same for me," he said, simply.

"Polite is not a word in my vocabulary, Potter," Snape said, simply, "you want respect? Then you will have to earn it. From me, from your peers and from the rest of the school. Your spoiled upbringing will not avail you," the sour man explained.

At this, Harry shook his head. "I suppose you are correct," Harry said. "Then, how would I go earning your respect, at least enough that you may call me by my name, sir?"

"That, you must discover for yourself," Snape said, a nasty sneer on his face, "though I doubt that you will. No, I expect little from you. But I digress. What I said to Potter applies to the rest of you, as well. You want respect? You want to be more than just the gravel crushed beneath the heels of your betters? Then you will work for it. This is Slytherin, the House of the Cunning and Ambitious. Nothing will be freely given to you, and you will have to fight for everything that you take. You will fight to obtain it, and you will fight to keep it."

The students seemed to be entirely intimidated by Snape. All except, of course, for the one student that everyone expected would be the odd one out anyway, so it didn't really make much of a difference in the end.

"You will rise. Slytherin is the house of Greatness. You kneel to no one, you follow no one and you are no one's tool but your own. Know this, engrave it upon your minds, keep it within yourself and never forget. We. Are. Slytherin," Snape declared, standing up straight once more, as the students all rose on his command. "Do not disappoint me."

The man turned around, making his robes billow behind him, and retired from the common room, leaving through the entrance, possibly going to the potions laboratory.

"Hm. Rude though he might be, he does have the villainous tone and posture down pat. I have much to learn from him," Harry stated, noding to himself. "Though I do wonder what our Schedule looks like. Aren't we supposed to be handed one?" he asked around, turning to see his fellow classmates. They seemed intimidated. He frowned. It took a while for them to recover, and by then, a Prefect had dropped by with their schedules.

Harry saw that he had enough free time to engage in some training.

* * *

**Villainous Comeback**

**Chapter 4: ****Nekomimi Switch**

* * *

To pursue his goal of training, he left the common room, with directions from a prefect so he could find an empty classroom to practice whatever it was he was going to practice in. Magic in the corridors, and practically anything other than their intended use, had been forbidden, but the classrooms were fair game for any who would want to use them. It took a few tries, but Harry's brain finally engaged and reminded him that his robot companion wouldn't forget the directions and thus was able to lead him safely to his intended target. He'd also told her to attempt to map out the school when he had no need of her, as it would be fairly useful later on. For the moment, however... "You have the needed materials, right?" he asked.

"Always," his maid said, as her hand dug into the pockets of her apron, before pulling out a pair of dolls, as well as a spool of incredibly thin wire. It'd be invisible when unrolled. "Here," she said, putting them on the teacher's podium, before she turned to the rest of the classroom. "Shall I clear it?"

"Hm... shouldn't need to," Harry said, before he took the spool of wire. With a flash of movement, it was unrolled, the cardboard tube it'd been rolled around falling to the ground. The wire was seemingly nowhere to be seen. With the face of a man in deep concentration, Harry glared at the cardboard tube before he flicked his left wrist. It was seemingly snatched by thin air, and then flew up. Harry swung his right arm. The tube was sliced into dozens of pieces, almost instantly. "Hm... still too slow," Harry said. "Mother would be disappointed at my lack of progress."

"And your father would say that progress doesn't come about in one afternoon," his maid supplied.

"Easy for him to say," Harry muttered, "he is a genius. Everything he tries comes easy to him," he said, frowning.

"You have heard your father sing, young master," his maid supplied.

"True enough, I guess, but why did you have to bring that up? Now I'll have nightmares," Harry said, a grin on his face, before he shook his head. His wrists, both of them, flicked, and his fingers stretched, all aimed at the two dolls on the table. He sighed. "Glad to see that much worked, at least," he said, taking a deep breath.

The two dolls suddenly stood up. They were two plush kittens, one black and the other white, and both had dissonantly serene expressions on their faces.

Harry sighed in relief. He couldn't keep replacing these based on his allowance. It also didn't help that Chachamaru often refused to return them to him when they were repaired, if the damage didn't make doing that impossible. His face screwed into a frown of effort, and his fingers twitched. The kittens seemed to snap to attention, turning to him, and then starting to march in unison, their arms swinging in an odd parody of a military officer's gait. Both saluted Harry, before they squared off against each other.

Twin flicks of Harry's wrists sent the two kittens crashing into each other, both swinging their arms, legs and tails around in a mockery of martial arts stances that Harry knew well, from having seen his mother and father utilizing them. While the kittens were nowhere near as fast as his parents, they did make an adequately impressive spectacle as he made them begin to leap around, taking the fight to other places, such as walls, the desks still in the room, the ceiling and even his and his maid's heads. He inflicted a small cut on one of his cheeks when one of his wires came too close to him, and he could see several scrapes that the wooden surfaces of the room had suffered.

It wasn't perfect yet, but he smiled at his progress nonetheless. It'd come a long way from when he could barely get his puppets to move. But there was something else he wanted to do.

The white kitten eventually subdued the black one. Harry simply knew his mother's fight style far better than he knew his father's, and as a result, he was able to counter it better when it came down to it. He thought it was funny that if they fought in real life, the result would be the inverse one each and every time, but he supposed it was his fault for never bothering to learn Kenpo.

"Do you have..?" Harry began, turning to the one presence constant in his life.

"Yes. The Professor Creator was able to produce what you required, Master," she said, nodding before pulling a small black rectangle, not bigger than an adult's palm, and presented it to Harry.

"Great! Now, clear the room, we need enough space," Harry ordered, taking the artifact from her hand.

It was done in but a few scant minutes.

There was a semicircle opened in the middle of the room. "Hm... that won't do," Harry said. "You should probably change," he said, pressing a button on the artifact he'd been given, which made it light up. He seemed to go through a few menus, tapping the screen as he did, until he smiled in satisfaction and with a flash of light, the maid outfit that his attendant had been wearing was gone, replaced instead with a stylized sailor uniform, a bit more reminiscent of what is seen on anime than what is seen in real life. There was also a pair of headphones on her head that had the distinct shape of cat ears, and her hair, priorly set loose, was now held up in twin, if very long, pigtails. "Hm. That should do it."

"Master. This is a grievous misuse of the Pactio Artifact the Creators made for me," she said, with a somewhat petulant look in her face. "Even if it does fit my intended purpose..."

"You complain now, but you're all smiles when we start," Harry said with a wry grin on his face.

"What can I say, my master? I was created to sing for you, and that is my only desire in life," she said, offering him a smile that finally gave her the push needed to cross over the uncanny valley. It was much nicer to see her this way, Harry noted. "Even if I was the seventh model..."

"You'll always be my favorite," Harry said, using the dolls still attached to him by wires to pat her head from a distance. "Let's get to work! Are you ready?"

"Always, my master," she said with a smile.

Nodding, Harry activated the artifact once more, and music filled the room. Merely seconds after it began, both kittens snapped into place each to one of the robot's sides, and the three of them began to jump up and down to the rhythm of the beat.

Harry counted to thirteen, and his fingers twitched. Three perfectly synchronized legs shot to the right side, followed by a hand, almost as if heralding the lyrics, "Kimi to watashi-"

The real meat of Harry's practice had just begun.

* * *

"Hm... what is that noise?" Daphne Greengrass asked, having heard something odd in the distance. It sounded like odd, unintelligible chanting. A curse, maybe?

There were also sounds that no instrument she knew of could produce.

She frowned. This merited further investigation!

Of course, however, she was a Slytherin. And thus she had to get someone else to do it for, or at least with, her. Not because she was scared, or anything, it was because she would bring backup before she had to call it. Yeah. She was just being prepared.

It wasn't because she was scared it might be something dangerous. No way. She was a pureblood! Powerful and proud and strong and all that stuff!

She was not a scaredy cat!

Even if she did let out a shrill scream when her best friend tapped her on the shoulder and called her name, it didn't mean she was afraid! She was startled, is all!

Still, time to recruit people! And that meant cannon fodder! So she had to get the boys!

* * *

Meanwhile, Albus Dumbledore was busy entertaining Severus Snape in his office.

"What are your thoughts, Severus?" the mountain of hair known as the greatest wizard of his time asked, stroking his beard.

"Potter appears to be quite arrogant. It's nothing overt, and I believe his arrogance is not undue. He is definitely impressive," Snape admitted, "I don't believe he is the sort anyone would like as an enemy. The kind of way he talks... he's not intimidated by me. He's definitely no normal child. It seems that your gamble might have paid off better than you could have imagined, Headmaster," Snape commented, his face solemn.

"I see. Still, I have worries. Would you mind assuaging them?" the Headmaster asked.

"Potter seems to have an... unhealthy interest in villainy. Although... It seems he has a rather... warped idea of what morality means. Nothing less than what I would expect from someone raised by one of the most infamous criminals of all time. I will observe him further. If he is putting on fake airs of affability, we will know pretty soon. If nothing else, the Malfoys have an uncanny ability to get under someone's skin."

"Young Draco could be hurt, Severus," Dumbledore reprimanded. "I've told you that it's an unworkable plan. Putting the students at risk like that..."

"And having Quirrel isn't?" Snape countered.

Dumbledore looked over the rim of his glasses at his potions professor. "That is perfectly under control. He knows that I know that he knows that I know. He also knows I lack any sort of proof. He won't move to grant me any until he's got a fair shot at the stone. And you know full well that he's only heading into a trap."

Nevertheless, Snape didn't seem convinced.

"The only student whose safety I fear for is Harry Potter... and even then, if what I suspect about him is true, then I much more fear for Quirrel's safety, should he ever make an attempt on young Harry's well being..."

* * *

"Setsunai ne!"

Harry let out a deep breath he didn't know he'd been holding. The dolls grew slack and fell to the ground, lifeless.

"W-Woah..."

Harry blinked. Then he turned around. Gathered on one side of the classroom, behind him, closer to the door... there were quite a few first years. All of the Slytherin first years, in fact. "Hm..?" Harry frowned for a second and shook his head. "Oh, how rude of me. Did I disturb your sleep, perchance?"

"Uh... no," one of them eloquently said, "Potter, what... what was that?"

"Oh, do please refer to me by my name. I haven't used that one in a decade," Harry said, smiling politely yet speaking in a way that spoke of mounting irritation, "and as for what you just saw... that is the extent of my skill in puppetry for the time being. A performance of two, specific timed movements that are much harder to copy and require a lot of concentration to keep my imitation going in real time to match her movements as she sings and dances."

"H-Huh?" he didn't know who had asked, but Harry smiled at the crowd nonetheless.

"Ah, but I am being awfully rude still. What brings you all here?" he asked.

"Greengrass, you wanted to come here," one of the girls said, pushing another.

"I thought someone might be trying to prank us or something!" the pushed one growled.

"Ah, nothing of the sort, no. I am merely practicing so that I don't lose my abilities. Mother would probably skin me alive if I degraded to the point I couldn't do at least this much," Harry said, smiling widely, almost as if he hadn't just told someone of a horrific punishment in the most casual of tones. "Is it time for our first class of the day, yet?" he asked, turning to the girl who just moments ago had been dancing, his ever faithful companion.

"Not quite yet, young master, but it will be pretty soon," she said, simply. "Shall I return this classroom to its prior configuration?"

"Hm... no, that'd be pointless. This classroom wasn't in use. I shall claim it as my evil lair for the time being," Harry declared. "It will be a while until I can claim the entire castle, but it's a start," Harry said, nodding to himself. His wrists snapped into motion, his fingers moved as well. Some curled, others straightened, and the pinky of his left hand made a beckoning movement.

Both of the cat puppets were brought back to life and they immediately stood up, saluting their puppeteer, before moving forward until each was at one of Harry's sides. Almost like a conductor in a play, Harry smiled and bowed to his audience, and his puppets did the same alongside him. His maid, who had now changed back to her prior uniform in a flash of light, remained stock still and stoic behind him, her impassive, emotionless gaze sweeping over the shocked students.

"I'm afraid I am done for the day. Perhaps some other time we might be able to provide a proper performance. Until then, please forgive me," he said, looking at his fellow first years.

They all nodded and, speechless as they were, they trickled out of the room.

"Your ability to handle crowds is superb, Master."

Harry smiled. "Hm. I had not yet given you permission to change back," he said, looking at her and raising an eyebrow.

"Apologies, Master, I assumed," she explained, briefly.

"Odd that a being with no free will can have initiative," Harry noted, briefly. "Perhaps there's more to you than what was programmed in, eh? Who knows. Maybe you can even start answering to the name I gave you."

"I am Chacha-model 2 Serial Number 068, Master. That is my designation," she said.

"And now you even disobey your master? My my, elder sister would be proud," Harry said, laughing.

"Your mother would be proud of your teasing abilities, Master," she answered, almost with a hint of smugness. It might very well have been Harry's imagination, however, as she looked stoic as ever.

Harry smiled and shook his head. With a sigh, he stretched all ten of his fingers, palms facing down. Shortly after, the sound of something metalic bunching up called to attention their ears. It was followed by a few droplets of blood making almost inaudible sounds as they splattered against the stone floor of the classroom. "Hm. My hands are still too soft... Oh, well."

He hissed when the sting of alcohol registered, as the wounds on his hands were cleaned the muggle method. One can never be too thorough, after all. It didn't take long for his hands to be bandaged up.

"They're going to ask questions, aren't they?" Harry asked, frowning a little.

"Yes." It wasn't a mystery, so it was clear that she would answer that.

"Hm. Should I answer? What do you think?" he asked, frowning a little more, showing clear indecision.

"I said it before, Master. I don't," she replied, and Harry glared at her.

"You're sure you haven't developed sentience?" Harry said, accusation on his tone. "If you're going Skynet on me, we might have problems."

"Positive, Master," she replied, not missing a beat.

"Okay, just wanted to know. Oh, and if you do think you're developing an actual personality instead of what's been programmed into you, do let me know. I have to be ready to tell you 'I told you so' when you want to be called by your name," Harry said, shrugging.

With that, the conversation was over, and after the classroom was left in condition to be used the next time without requiring a setup, they set off to brave the rest of the day.

It would probably be far from pleasant.

Still, Harry mused, perhaps it could be turned productive. His classmates would be in awe of him, possibly impressed by the abilities that weren't even close to what his mother could achieve. He could use that. It would be easier to sway them to his side, to form the power base of a proper villain and all.

Unfortunately, there was a big roadblock. It seemed that one certain professor irrationally and inexplicably hated him. While he could buy that Snape was simply that mean to everyone, the fact that he'd called, and singled, him out specifically... it spoke of something more.

"Hm... I wonder if I should use mother's method to obtain Professor Snape's respect..."

"In the words of your father, Master, it will work in the short term, but most likely not in the mid or long terms. I'd recommend against it, as he is in a position of power over yourself. Until that situation is reversed, it is best to have him believe he is in control of the situation. Until you render him unable to retaliate, we should proceed through your father's methods. So long as they believe you inoffensive, you should be safe."

Harry sighed. "I guess I must tolerate his rudeness until then," Harry concluded. "Then the kittens shall have to wait to reveal their claws. The least I could do to make it up to them is make it a grand spectacle..."

The smirk on Harry's face would've scared small animals.

* * *

"I wish I had the time to dedicate to martial arts," Harry said, sighing as he ignored his classmates' attempts at gaining his attention. He was running slightly late, and while villains had to be stylysh and thus show up fashonably late... Well, the teacher wouldn't appreciate rudeness, surely, and Harry wasn't a rude man by any stretch of the word.

Eventually, he made it to the Transfiguration classroom, although he noticed that the teacher wasn't there. There was a cat on her desk, though. It made him frown. Soon enough, the last few Gryffindors came running into the room, and the cat took the chance to leap into the air, and swiftly become a familiar witch, the same one who'd conducted the sorting ceremony.

Neat trick, Harry mused.

"Mr. Potter, I will have to ask you to leave your familiar outside," she said, simply, looking at him for an instant. "I will not tolerate fooling around nor cheating of any kind, and while your familiar has been permitted into the school, I cannot in good conscience allow disruptive elements into my class. Transfigurations is an important and difficult subject, one that requires concentration and dedication. Foolish behavior will only be dangerous to us all, and external influences could very well jeopardize our working environment."

Quite a long and overt explanation, which she'd shifted from Harry himself to the rest of the class. Harry smiled, knowing an 'excuse' for a lecture whenever he heard it. His father used it often enough, when he had to lecture a multitude of people and had an example come up. Depending on the student used as the example, it could very well motivate them into picking up their pace or embarrass them and make them resent the teacher. The woman was experienced enough as a teacher to figure out that Harry would likely not be affected by being made into an example to explain intolerable behavior. He could certainly ignore the snickers that erupted when he got 'slapped down'.

While Harry was not particularly fond of the spotlight, he couldn't find fault in the woman's choice. "Very well," Harry said, nodding.

It didn't take long for the comforting presence that followed him everywhere to leave in a rush of movement. Harry knew that she'd wait just outside the door, possibly standing like a stoic sentinel, waiting for his call.

"Much appreciated," the woman said with a stern expression that approached a smile. "I am Minerva McGonagall, and I shall be your Transfigurations instructor for the following seven years. As I explained before, I take my subject very seriously, and I expect the same from you. This is not a class that you may take lightly, as it may very well prove dangerous to yourselves. If you disobey, I will have you leave my classroom and not return."

The class seemed nervous, and Harry could understand why. Professor McGonagall did have the commanding presence that her kind of teacher, the stern, no-nonsense disciplinarian, required. It seemed that experience truly shined in her, as she was clearly in her element.

Father would probably love to meet with her and discuss teaching techniques, and ask her how to control rowdy students, Harry mused. That had never been one of Negi's strong points, as he relied more on his natural charisma and disposition to earn the students' respect, which didn't always work very well. But then, heroes couldn't afford to be stern disciplinarians, since they wouldn't be seen as nice goody goods if they did.

Which was another reason why villainy was cooler.

Speaking about villainy, McGonagall's eyes focused on Harry for a second, and he flashed her a polite smile, before his eyes flickered to the black board momentarily, seeing as she began to write out a few simple instructions by waving her wand at it, chalk be damned.

"Now, on the Blackboard are the definitions of terms that I will be using along this class. I'd suggest you write them down so that you may start building your own glossary. While some of you might have been raised in homes in which those were commonplace, I can assure you, many are not used in popular, every day speech, and as such, even if you know some of the words I will use, you will not know them all. I will give you time to do so now."

She gave them plenty of time, Harry noted, which was probably to account for the slower writing speed of the quills that they were using instead of the faster and more comfortable pens that muggleborns and muggle raised were most likely accustomed to using. While parchment and quills were not something entirely alien to Harry, as his mother was perfectly capable of using them to write and had taken the time to teach Harry, he noticed that several muggleborn didn't have that luxury, and yet didn't look lost as to their usage. At least, not as much as he expected them to be.

He wondered if there'd been some sort of class or seminary or something to teach them how to use quills to write on parchment, but that thought was dashed away as the time McGonagall gave them came to an end.

"Whether you've finished or not, I'd suggest you let your ink dry for a moment, and then prepare to take notes as I explain the basics of our subject," she started, her eyes scanning the room. "To start with, it is a complex and demanding art, with the potential to do a great deal of benefit for your every day life, and which is involved in a great deal of more advanced disciplines..."

* * *

"Springfield," Daphne's voice stopped Harry cold as he prepared to leave the classroom. "We have the same schedule. I know you don't have to hurry to your next class. So, spill."

Harry sighed, but put up a smile nonetheless. "Spill? What do you wish to know?"

"Your robot was singing and you had dancing dolls, no, wait, they were puppets, right? That you were controlling. Much better than I've ever seen puppeteers ever do, and that's accounting for spells designed specifically to make puppeteering easier. If I didn't know better, I'd think that you cast some sort of animation charm on them," one of the boys that Harry was more acquainted with, Theodore Nott, explained. "Yeah, there's something weird going on here."

The others nodded. "So our Evil Overlord has more talent than he shows?" Pansy asked, smiling widely.

"... What?" Draco Malfoy, perhaps the most perturbed of the bunch, asked. "What are you going on about?"

"Well, if I am going to be the Final Boss, I need a cool title, and Dark Lord just seemed so low on the totem pole, so we decided on Evil Overlord, and then I needed a cool name, so..." Harry explained.

"This is too stupid," Blaise Zabini, the other boy Harry was more acquainted with, protested. "Just explain the puppets."

"Oh. That. Well, my mother taught me since I can't use the same form of magic she can, and she thought that I needed something to pass the time I would've used on magic lessons," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. "I just think it's fun."

"But why were you making them dance? And why was your robot singing gibberish?" Tracey asked.

"What's a robot?" one of the interchangeable large thugs asked.

"Think advanced homunculus," Tracey said, waving her hand.

"Oh," the same brute asked.

"What's a homunculus?" the other one asked.

"Draco'll tell you later," Pansy said.

"Anyway, explain!" Daphne said, pointing a finger at Harry's chest.

"Oh. Well. That wasn't gibberish, that was Japanese," Harry said, shaking his head. "It was a song, one of Auntie Chachamaru's favorites. It's called Nekomimi Switch, or... Cat Ears Switch, I guess you can say. That song is the reason why the puppets I control are shaped like cats," Harry said.

"That doesn't make any sense," Daphne accused.

"It makes plenty of sense. It's foreign, so it has to be crazy," Draco reasoned.

"How rude," Harry said with a frown.

"What?" Draco asked, clearly confused.

"You just insulted the culture he was raised in, dunderhead!" Tracey said, glaring at Draco.

"Well, it's his fault for being raised amongst crazies," Draco defended himself.

"Hm hm, this is convenient, though. This is where an Evil Overlord would make a statement, turn Draco into an example, right?" Pansy asked, turning to Harry. "Aren't I right, Overlord Vortigern?"

Daphne huffed. "I don't like that name," she muttered.

"Suck it up, it sounds cool," Tracey remarked.

"Well, normally, my mother would leave the people who insult her frozen for an hour or two," Harry mused. "I can't do that, though. Maybe I can tie him up with my wires... but that'd probably cut him pretty badly or damage his clothes, and that would be just mean," he reasoned.

"W-What!? Are you even - no, you know what, I won't even try to reason with you. If you're going to be like this, then I'll challenge you to a Wizard's Duel, Potter!"

"My name is Springfield," Harry said, frowning, "but that does provide me with a great alternative! I can publicly humiliate you in a duel between gentlemen, the way it's meant to be, without being rude, and I can still fulfill the quota of evilness by being cruel!" Harry said, grinning widely. "Draco, you're a genius! I'm glad you're my friend!"

"... What," Draco seemed utterly confused. "Does that mean you accept?"

"Yes, yes. We'll duel in the Great Hall, before dinner! You can't miss it, though, otherwise you'd just look silly," Harry said. "Well, we've gotta get to class. See you!"

And then Harry turned around and left through the door, before any of them could stop him, since he was skipping, clearly high on life.

"Well, Draco, I can't even begin to describe just how thoroughly screwed you are right now," Daphne said, "it was nice knowing you."

"What? I won't lose to him, I probably know more about magic than he does!" Draco blustered, though he himself didn't really feel like his boast suggested.

"If Springfield can back up even a little of what he talks, then you're just going to be a rag he uses to wipe the floor with," Blaise said, simply, "and if what we heard from his maid is true, then you better hope he doesn't take a cue from his mother."

"What would I need to worry about some mudblood?" Draco asked.

"Mudblood? Well, I guess you can be glad we don't want you dead," Theodore said, smiling. "Because you just got done calling the Dark Evangel a mudblood."

Draco's eyes widened. "Wait... WHAT!?"

* * *

It recently struck me that I posted an earlier version of the chapter, which was incomplete. The changes are minimal, but I feel silly nonetheless. It's really only a rather small scene.


End file.
